


Amazing Grace

by orphan_account



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, i didn't explicitly write it out but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was odd, adjusting to Billy. He didn't have the high voice, soft curves, and gentleness of a woman. He was made up of gravelly tones, hard lines, and twisted ways.<br/>Finn made do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amazing Grace

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this while i was procrastinating on another request so i don't know just enjoy some crappy finn/billy with a side of angst

Finn didn't give a damn that the person he had sex with groaned low and swore loud, didn't care that they hissed out his name in a voice deeper and more rough than his wife's, didn't care that they scratched at his skin with blunt fingernails when longer, sharper, crimson-painted ones came to mind when he thought of her. He cared that he could use them to remember what it was like to be with Angela before everything went wrong. And that was why Billy was his man. The former hitman didn't seem to mind so long as the mob boss and that little prick of a con-man were none the wiser to what was going on, because getting fucked was, according to him, "Way fuckin' better than gettin' off."

That was why what little time they had between waves of red-eyed undead was usually spent in some locked-up cell with khakis down and off and thoughts anywhere but on guns on walls, voltmeters, and magic drinks. And during these times, Finn could remember little things, like his wedding night with her, or the time when he brought home flowers and a bottle of Irish whiskey for their anniversary and made love to her on the couch. Those memories made him forget that he was fucking a psychopath out of desperation, making him a replacement for what had been lost.

\----

It had been Finn who had initiated things the first time. He'd been incarcerated for what seemed like an endless period of time, and with that came an endless dry spell. That time, it hadn't been about remembering, but about getting the both of them some. So, he shoved Billy up against a wall in the showers and kissed at his jaw. The dark-haired man responded aggressively, but not in the way Finn thought he would. Billy was all fingers carding through his hair, all twitching hips, and all bruising kisses.

Finn hadn't wanted to take it slow, and neither had Billy. They'd ended up rutting against each other on the floor of the showers, Finn biting at Billy's neck and curling his hands into the younger man's shirt And, when he was done, he gave Billy a few cigarettes and left him panting hard and confused as hell on the concrete.

Albert later asked about an odd noise down in the showers. Billy dismissed it as having stabbed a zombie in the back, making it choke out some weird sound. Sal congratulated them all on another day survived. Finn went to sleep in his cell.

\----

Billy came to him a few days later, when they were all supposed to be sleeping, and pushed him back onto the bed when he sat up. Finn smoked and stayed still like Billy wasn't grinding on him and gripping his arm for dear life. The hitman was alive, though, open-mouthed and whimpering like a bitch. Sure, Finn could feel it, but he was tired as hell and figured he'd let the kid have fun and get off himself. He arched his back off of the bed and bit down on the end of his cigarette when he came, letting out a quiet gasp that might've been his wife's name.

Billy's hand went to the waistband of his slacks and Finn stiffened, but he only grabbed the pack of Lucky Strikes he held there. Finn didn't speak, just watched Billy take a few, toss the pack onto his chest, and leave the cell. He fell asleep easily after and dreamed about Angela for the first time in months.

Sal questioned him about something whimpering during the night. Since his place of rest was near Cell Block C, Finn guessed that it was the dog. Billy was fucking vocal as a virgin girl.

\----

It was odd, adjusting to Billy. He didn't have the high voice, soft curves, and gentleness of a woman. He was made up of gravelly tones, hard lines, and twisted ways.

Finn made do.

\----

After that, they found each other whenever they needed a little relief. Finn fucked Billy for the first time against a wall on the docks, pinning his neck against the bricks, guns tossed onto the rain-covered ground. He breathed out against the hitman's skin and squeezed his eyes shut, not bothering to wonder why he was having sex with a cold-blooded killer. Billy had told them all he was an atheist, but that night, he said his name like a prayer. They smoked under a few crates afterwards and took the gondola back up.

Their teammates were asleep by Electric Cherry and neither man woke them up.

\----

Finn had a rule: never kiss someone you didn't love on the lips unless you wanted to fall in love them. Anywhere else, he'd found, was okay. (Maybe it was because the ancient Greeks sealed deals by kissing, not that he'd ever spent copious amounts of time reading up on customs and mythology, no, sir.) Now, someone like your ma didn't count, but a pretty redhead showgirl you had sex with once or twice a week in the back of Sal's speakeasy did. And so did blue-eyed hitmen with anchor tattoos.

\----

Billy started acting odd after they woke up in the prison for what Albert claimed was the second time. Finn was sitting up in bed and Billy was shirtless at the edge of it one night. Both of them were following their custom of post-fuck smoking. "I don't trust him, not one fuckin' bit." Billy said, grabbing around for his shirt. Finn didn't respond for a moment. The dark-haired man was beautiful, in some way, he noted, watching the muscles on Billy's back. And he had a great ass.

"None of us do. He's a prick." Finn exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd have to be stupid to not know whom Billy was talking about. They'd worked with Albert for the sake of getting out of the prison and now that they were still stuck in it, they had reason for their hostile attitude.

Billy pulled on his shirt and turned to him, cigarette bobbing in his mouth. "I knew a guy just like him. All talk, no game. A fuckin' weakling, too. He broke his promises one too many times. I tore his fuckin' throat out." Finn laughed and he didn't know why. They were talking brutal murder.

"What're you suggestin', Billy-boy? Spit it out."

"I say we tear out his throat if we ain't outta here within the next week."

\----

His back was against the bars of a cell near the warden's office. Billy was on him.

"If we ever get out, don't tell a fuckin' soul about this, you understand? I ain't a goddamn queer." Finn didn't think he'd get arrested for gambling; much less have his wife testify against him in court. He didn't think he'd be doing William fucking Handsome for a coping method. He thought he'd be settling down in Ireland with Angela when they were old and grey and their kids were going off to college.

Finn had been greedy, hadn't he? If he'd loved her as much as he said he had, then he would've given up gambling. They were already well off enough.

"If you ain't a queer," Billy's lips were right against his ear and Finn refused to shiver. "Then what are you? Last I checked, guys who fuck guys ain't straight. You might not suck me off, but you're queer as anything."

Why did Finn always smoke when they were talking? He didn't know. "You don't mean nothin' to me." Finn snapped. "And you don't tell me what I am and what I ain't! If I hear anything about what we've done from anyone but you, I swear to god, I'll- I'll kill you." Big talk for a cowardly man who only killed for business.

Billy knocked the cigarette out of Finn's mouth and broke the unspoken rule. And he'd be a damn liar if he didn't like the feeling of Billy's lips under his. He kissed back without knowing what the hell he was doing, grabbed Billy by the collar of his shirt and leaned in closer. He felt Billy's tongue in his mouth and bit down until he tasted blood. And he didn't stop kissing him until he swore he'd pass out.

Finn shoved him away and wiped his mouth, panting. A trail of blood oozed from the corner of Billy's mouth. "You stay the fuck away from me."

He walked up the steps and went to the cafeteria, where he knew Albert and Sal were playing cards. Funny how he thought he'd never touch Billy again. Funnier how he thought he'd get back to San Francisco, back to Angela, without being in a neat pine box.

\----

Finn stayed with Sal the next time they got the parts for the plane. He tried not to think about Billy, but hell, if you're getting with a guy on a constant basis and you stop, that's all you're gonna be thinking about. "You've been spending a lot of time around Billy. It's like you disappear. You two up to somethin'?" The Italian asked. They were heading up to the roof, cans of fuel under their arms.

He shrugged in response. Of course he wasn't going to say he was fucking Billy up the ass. "No," he lied, "just luck of the draw. What, Sal? You jealous?"

Sal snorted as they ran up the steps where Billy and Al were waiting. "No, just wonderin'. Think I heard him say your name in his sleep." Finn smiled despite himself and shook his head.

"Well, I ain't doin' shit with that fucker. He was probably thinkin' about how he could kill me."

\----

That asshole had betrayed them and Finn had been too fucking stupid to expect a thing. It was logical that he'd be bitter after the way they treated him and Finn put that in the back of his mind from the start. He was on the Golden Gate, ducking around too many red-eyed freaks and shooting too many bullets. He was also hiding from Albert, who was trying to kill his former teammates.

Shame he didn't see the con man coming until his knife was buried into his intestines. Al smiled cruelly and Finn spit blood all over the front of his shirt. "Sorry, Finn," he whispered, "that it had to end this way, yeah? Angela might've liked to slap you in the face again." Pain racked his body and his fingers attempted to pry the weapon from his guts. Al did it for him, smoothly wiping the blood from it, and Finn sank to his knees, pressing his hands against the wound. It was over that quickly.

“It's always the dames, isn't it, Finn. It's like they gotta fuckin' sixth sense that leads them right into your blind spot. Angela... how fuckin' stupid can you get? She was an actress, Finn, sayin' things she didn't mean was a way of life to her. She never loved you, she was only interested what you could do for her.”Finn coughed up more blood and closed his eyes, slumping against the side of the bridge, "Not only did you marry her, but you let her know the ins and outs of your business. You shared details, Finn. You shoulda known better. Secrets are there for a reason, pal." He felt the hold he had on his stomach weakening. His world was falling down around his ears. He was going to die without seeing his wife's beautiful face again. "I should've given up gambling!" Finn laughed bitterly and then grunted in pain. "Oh, god, fuck."

"Finn!" Billy's voice cut through his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see the hitman getting his throat slashed by Al. One hundred fifteen people killed, he thought, and this fucker takes him down. Billy fell just like he had, landing heavily with his head on Finn's legs. "I'm fuckin'-" he shut up, hands flying to the deep wound in his neck in vain. Finn started to cry before he could stop himself. None of this shit was fucking fair. They were bleeding out and there was nothing they could do.

Finn's vision was going red. "Sing for me." Billy choked out, a generous amount of blood seeping through his fingers. Finn sighed and thought back to the times he fucked him, smoked with him, talked with him. "Talk to me. Anything."

He cleared some of the blood from his throat, sniffed, and tried not to focus on how much of Billy's was spilling out onto his trousers. "You were just a replacement, Billy, 'cause I was lonely." Finn knew he didn't have much time left and he was wasting it. "But," he coughed, voice breaking, "but I think you might be more than that." The sound of Al's Raygun was growing closer. If they weren't dead by the time he reached them, he'd finish them off.

What the hell could he sing? Something practical. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound," he sang quietly, one of his hands finding its way to Billy's cooling cheek, "that saved a wretch like me..." Finn brushed his fingers against Billy's pulse and found none. Had he died hearing that he was only a replacement? Finn sobbed, but continued singing. "I once was lost, but now, I'm found. Was blind, but now," his voice was weak and his breaths were shallow. His fingers curled into Billy's hair in an attempt to bring him closer. No use. His strength had left him. He closed his eyes. "But now, I-"

His head fell against his chest, dead in a pool of his and Billy's blood before he could finish the song. Al stepped up beside them. Sal was bleeding out from several holes in his body and would soon be dead. He nudged Finn's jaw with the muzzle of his gun. "You were fuckin' him when we weren't around..." the man smiled. "Better than gettin' off, I bet. And you were singin' to him before he died. I should end it for you, shouldn't I? I'm a real polite guy."

"I once was lost," Al sang out onto the wreckage of the bridge, "but now, I'm found, was blind, but now, I see."


End file.
